


Remnant of a Hero

by ZeroDarkThirty



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroDarkThirty/pseuds/ZeroDarkThirty
Summary: One shot between PJO and HOO. Annabeth is dead. The Titan war is over. Percy is about to kill himself... Before Hestia steps in. Rewritten as of December 27, 2016





	Remnant of a Hero

A/N This will be a short story about what could have happened if Percy lost Annabeth in the Titan war. This is a planned one-shot. 

Remnant of a Hero

"Another!" He called, shakily raising one hand in the air. The man at the bar came over and squinted at him. He had no problem with ignoring the law on the amount of alcohol he could sell to one person. He did have a problem with giving a kid who looked fresh out of college enough to drink himself to death.

"I think you've had enough." The bartender said seriously, the slash on his cheek giving him a fearsome look. His blond hair looked like it had been plastered in place and his blue eyes were cold. The head of the customer slowly swiveled to look at him.  
Two green eyes blazed into orbs of emerald fire which locked gazes with the solid brown eyes of the well-meaning bartender.

"I said, another." Percy snarled at him, pulling a pen from his pocket.

"And I said you have had enough." The mortal retorted, not backing down. He internally groaned. He recognized the look in the eyes of the young man in front of him. It was the look of someone spoiling for a fight. He had just paid off the mortgage on this place, the last thing he needed was for some kid to damage it in a fit of drunken rage. "I dare you to try it kid. I served in the army for four years, I think I can take you." He crossed his arms and stared him down. Suddenly, Percy moved. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. He slashed at the mortal with Riptide, his hazy mind classifying the obstacle as an enemy. The man flinched back in fear at the strike, before blinking and looking down. He was untouched, it was almost as if the kid had missed him. "Nice trick sword, I'm sure you make a great magician when you are sober. But unless you think you can beat me hand to hand, you aren't getting anything else to drink. I will give you a few minutes, then I want you to leave." He didn't wait for an answer, he turned in his heel and went back to the middle of the bar.

Percy slumped forward at the pub, burying his face in his hands. If any of his friends from his past life had seen him, they would have been shocked. They might not even recognize him. He had a long, greasy beard now. His face was sunken and pale, the dead eyes of a haunted man staring listlessly out at the world. He had long fingernails, like a cat's, and his hair was unkempt, ragged and stringy. His eyes, once so full of joy and fun, now looked like the color of pea soup, a dull listless green with a glassy look. He had clearly been drinking for some time, but as a demigod his metabolism was increased so it was harder for him to get drunk. He could easily get his judgement impaired, as the encounter had proved. He could just never drink himself to sleep.

He slapped a hand to his face as he laughed bitterly in his head. 'What had he been thinking?' Stabbing at a mortal with an object harmless to them. Why had he even attacked the bartender anyways? He was just trying to help him, after all. The last thing he needed was to be hauled in by police. They would record his name, and then they would find him. He had done everything possible to flee from his old life. He had given himself a new name, forged identification papers, and even fled overseas to England. Yet no matter what he had done, the memory of her face followed him in his dreams. It made it impossible to so much as look at another girl. This was the fifth year anniversary of her death. He was honestly surprised that he had survived this long. Why you ask? Because, quite simply, he had lost the will to live. He slowly rose from his stool and reached deep into his pocket, scrabbling for his wallet. He frowned as his questing hand came up empty, plunging his other hand in as well. Still nothing. Maybe it was in his other pocket. He smiled as he finally located it, pulling it out of his pocket and offering it to the barkeep.

"T-Take what is ne'ed." He slurred, swaying on his feet. The man hesitantly took the piece of leather, flipping it open. There was almost nothing there, no credit card, no checks, no cash. The driver's license simply said Perseus Johansson. He tapped his chin with one finger. There was something about that name. Perseus... He shook himself and got back to the matter at hand. The college age person in front of him had no way to pay for his drinks. He glanced up again. He did not know why, but he felt a kindred spirit with this Perseus. Maybe it was the Greek name. His own mother, Mary, was obsessed with the Greek gods. She thought she was an oracle. He snorted. As if. Despite the random occasions where her eyes would glow and green smoke would form around her, he thought she was making it up. He would not admit it, but it was a little freaky. That was why he had not returned home in a long time, leaving the plastic containers containing moldy sandwiches and the trays of burned cookies alone, always waiting on the table for him to come home. She still lived there, alone, up in Connecticut.

He sighed audibly. His boss was going to kill him for this. "Ya know what? Keep it." He flipped the billfold back to Percy. "You look like you were drinking over a girl. Something I can sympathize with. You need what you have more."

Percy nodded in silent thanks before he left the pub. He went outside and walked down the street, quickly ending up at the beach. It was painful for him, any trip near a sizable body of water made memories of the two of them kissing on the beach resurface in his head. Yet despite this, he still felt a connection to the sea. It was oddly fitting. They had been together for five years, starting on a beach much like this one. Now, he intended to end his miserable existence on a beach so he could be with her on the fifth anniversary of her death, beginning their relationship anew in the afterlife. He pulled Riptide out again and looked at it sadly. If only Zoe could see what had become of the demigod that still wielded her blade. Attacking a mortal! Him, the vaunted hero! Though, it was a male, so...

But that was all beside the point. He was stalling. 'Just get it over with.' He thought to himself. He turned it so the point was towards his chest and braced himself for the pain. Yet it was not to happen. He screamed as he felt the metal scald his hand, bursting into heat so intense his skin started to char instantly. He dropped the blade, cradling his injured hand in pain. He quickly looked for Anaklusmos and saw the pen lying at the feet of someone wearing sandals. He slowly raised his gaze from where he was, on his knees. He saw a woman with mousy brown hair and balls of fire for eyes in front of him. 'Oh Hades.' He knew who it was.

"What do you think you are doing?" Hestia hissed coldly at him, hands on her hips. Harry ignored what she said, instead just gazing silently at her. He had always had a small crush on her, and never had she looked more attractive than she was now in her anger. The more rational, not-quite-as-drunk section of his mind was setting off alarm bells. This was Hestia, the virgin goddess! It was not like she might actually like him back or anything. He continued to drown out what she was saying as he kept looking at her hazily.

"What would Annabeth say?" That got through, and it hurt. A lot. And not just for the guilt, but also for the actual pain her shouting was causing his new hangover. She saw him wince and snapped her fingers, clearing the fog of alcohol away.

He looked down, ashamed of himself. "That's just the problem. With her gone, I have nothing to live for. Every time I close my eyes, I see her dead body, bleeding out in front of me. If only I had tried a bit harder, I could have saved her."

Hestia looked at the broken hero and felt her eyes soften in pity. "Perseus, there was nothing you could have done. The fates had decreed it was time for her life to end. If you must blame someone, blame me."

Percy looked up, shock evident on his features, his face a mask of confusion. "What do you mean, blame you? You are the best of all the gods and have never wronged anyone. Why should I blame you?" He had no idea why she blamed herself, but he had to put her misconception to rights.

Hestia looked down, somewhat ashamed in her turn. "Because I was a coward. All I did was ruin Kronos' scythe. I could have helped more. I should have stood up to him and fought beside you. True, with so little hope and the home of the Olympians in danger, my powers were weakened, but I should have done something regardless." Her shoulders began to shake, the fact that she was reliving her deepest held regret getting to her.

Percy rushed forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, doing his best to keep from thinking about the fact that she could vaporize him for daring to touch her. "Hestia. Look at me. Now." His voice was calm, yet insistent.

She looked up, streaks of gold running down her face, the fire in her eyes almost gone.

"It is completely understandable what you did. Don't you dare think less of yourself for what you did. Without you, Olympus would have fallen. You are the last Olympian. None of this was your fault. Now please, let me finish what I started." It was a nice diversion talking with her, but that was all it was, a distraction.

She smiled sadly. "Sorry, not happening. I won't let you. You have things you can still do to make this world a better place. Demigods need protecting. There have been rumors of Gaea rising. Are you going to deprive the rest of the demigods at a better chance to survive because you were selfish? We need you back." She winced inwardly as she said that, hating every second of playing that card.

His head snapped up, a face filled with anger. "And what if I don't want to come back? What if I am tired of being the hero? What if I want to think of myself for a change?"

Hestia nodded to herself, preparing to poke at his pride even harder. "I see then. So deep down, you are a coward."

His eyes blazed in fury. "ME? A COWARD? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I LOST?" He roared aloud.

She nodded weakly. "Yes. Better than anyone else." She said quietly. Percy continued as if he had not heard her, though he did quiet down a little.

"I gave my everything in that war. I lost friends and family to that war. You wanted to kill me. And then, at the end, when we were defending YOUR THRONES, where were the damned gods when we needed them!" He exploded. "And yet you still say I am a coward?" He raised his hand as if to hit her while she stood there impassively. He trembled for a minute before lowering his hand and sighing as the fury deeper out of him. "Just leave me alone." He no longer sounded angry, just said and resigned. He turned his back on her and began waking away. He did not get far before a pair of soft arms encircled him from behind.

"Please Perseus. We need you, I need you. Could you just abandon innocents to their fate? The old Percy would have stopped at nothing to help others. This is not like you. If not for yourself, do this for me. Please?"

He sighed and sagged back against her reluctantly. "Fine. For you, for nothing else. I cannot promise I will stay, but I will give it my best shot. I can't in good conscience leave the weak unprotected. But promise me this Hestia. I want your word that, when I leave again, I am left alone. No one will try to follow me or recover me. If they run into me that is one thing, but no active searching. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes. You have my word." She agreed hurriedly, knowing that was the best she was going to get. Then she reached out and grabbed his shoulder, smiling in relief. Hopefully, once he saw what was going on, the real Percy Jackson would come back, the one that even now peeked through occasionally. "Then let's go hero. The world needs you. One last time."

They flashed away, leaving only an empty beach. The only sign that anyone had been there was the imprint of an ancient Greek sword in the sand, with a capped pen lying next to it as the full moon shone down on the coast, as the breakers crashed on the rocky shore.


End file.
